Empire

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Portable lights on yellow tripods lit the white cinderblock walls of the rectangular room. Rusty pipes lined the low ceiling; stains on the concrete floor marked five years of leaks and added mustiness to the cornucopia of aromas ranging from oil and grease to the moist smell of rot and fungi hiding in dark corners.

Fading block letters stenciled on the wall identified the dank room as an “Irrigation Station” for the greens of “Cheviot Hills” but the place served a new purpose in a changed world.

Aerial photography, charts, and pencil-sketched diagrams covered the walls held in place by strips of packing tape. Technicians in green army camouflage sat at plastic chairs monitoring radios and laptop computers atop small desks. Static, chatter, electronic beeps, and the tap of fingers on keyboards generated a dull murmur filling the cramped quarters.

A folding table held center court where one large unfurled map lay with its curled edges anchored by makeshift paperweights: a baseball cap, a ceramic ashtray, a stack of rifle magazines, and a pistol.

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